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PS 3509 
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Copy 2 







Copyright 1918. 
By LULU EVARTS 


Printed by Phelps Printing Co., Oklahoma City 
April 20, 1918. 

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Author 


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INTRODUCTION 


MY FATHER, WM. KEESEE. 

Claims his mother died in the state of Ken- 
tucky in 1848. Old mother Brusch came and 
lived with her grandson Charles Keesee. 

She is my father’s informant in regards to our 
relationship to Francis Marion, the swamp-fox 
of the Revolutionary Wars of America. Old 
Mother Brusch informed my father, Wm. 
Keesee, who lives in the Old Soldiers Home at 
Pewee Valley, Ky., and was a captain under 
Robert E. Lee, that she was Francis Marion’s 
sister. Wm. Keesee was born April 16, 1836, 
and is close to 82 years old, April 16, 1918. 
Charles Keesee, Wm. Keesee’s father, died in 
Kentucky at Lovelaceville at his daughter’s 
home, Nannie E. Dalton. He was a grandson 
to Francis Marion's sister. John Brush born 
June 22, 1742 at Georgetown, South Carolina, 
was made a captain over a squadron of men to 
drive the Cherokee Indians out of the white 
settlement. 

— By his Brother-in-Law, Francis Marion. 


BIOGRAPHY OF WM. KEESEE. 

Francis Marion, the Swamp-fox of the Revo- 
lutionary wars of America, was born Feb. 22, 
1732, at Georgetown, South Carolina, died in 
Charleston, 1795. Martha Caroline Marion, 
born in Georgetown, Jan. 19, 1744. Died in 
the state of Kentucky, 1848. Martha Caro- 
line Marion married John Jacob Brusch in 
1759. John Jacob Brusch born June 22, 1742, 
at Georgetown, died in 1 7b6 at the same place. 
Adeline Brusch (daughter) was born April 22, 
1760 on her uncles farm. Francis Marion 
named her Adeline after his mother. She mar- 
ried A. John Keesee. He was born in 1760, 
died in Richmond, Virginia, in 1830. Charles 




Keesee, their son, was born Sept. 22, 1799, in 
Richmond, Virginai. He died in Lovelaceville, 
Kentucky, May 15, 1892. He had three sisters 
Martha, Caroline, Adeline and Charity. He 
married Sallie McGrew, June 18, 1835, in the 
state of Kentucky. Sallie McGrew was born 
May 18, 1822, died in 1847 the same place. 
Their son, William Mathis Keesee, was born 
April 16, 1836. He was the oldest of eight 
children. Wm. Keesee married Anna Ritta 
Hall, Ballard County, state of Kentucky. Anna 
Ritta Hall’s father’s , right name was Charles 
Kingsley. He was born in Devononshire, Eng- 
land, died in Trinidad, Colorado, in December 
2, 1892. He married Sarah Jane Sloan, old 
doctor Sloan’s daughter in the state of Ken- 
tucky in August 15, 1847. Sarah Jane Sloan 
was born in 1829, married Charles Hall in 1847. 
Their daughter, Anna Ritta Hall, the oldest of 
fourteen children was born Aug. 5, 1848. Died 
at Las Cerrillas, New Mexico, Aug. 14, 1892. 
She married Mathias Keesee. 


Wm. Keesee and Anna Ritta Hall were mar- 
ried August 22, 1866, in the county of Ballard 
and the state of Kentucky. There was five 
children born to their union. Alla Mildred 
Keesee born February 19, 1868 died at Ames, 
Oklahoma, 1911. Charles Jackson Keesee, born 
December 22, 1871 in Bland Ville, Kentucky. 
Mary Vietta Keese born at Pueblo, Colorado, 
July 22, 1874, died May 2, 1879. Minnie Lor- 
etta Keese born at Los Vegas, New Mexico. 
Mrs. Anna Ritta Keesee, deceased, August 14, 
1890 at Las Cerrillas, New Mexico. Lulu 
Emma Keese born October 12, 1879 at Las Ve- 
gas, New Mexico. Virgil Homer Evarts born 
September 22, 1900 died at Oklahoma City, 
1915, of diptheria. Lulu Emma Keesee and 
John W. Evarts married May 27, 1898 at Okla- 
homa City by Asa Jones, probate judge of Ok- 
lahoma. John W. Evarts born February 19, 
1837, died at Oklahoma City, December 2, 1909 
of pneumonia. My father, Wm. Keesee was a 
Lee. Wm. Keesee at one time was owner of val- 


uable mines at Las Cerrillos, New Mexico. The 
King of Spain had some interest in these mines 
in 1782, confirmed by congress in 1867. In 
1881 Wm. Keesee purchased his interests and 
made his legal filing and shipped the first car- 
load in 1882 at Las Cerrillos, New Mexico. This 
was called the Juana Lopez Grant. Wm. 
Keese sold his interest to S. M. Folsom, pres- 
ident of the Alberquerque National Bank and 
C. A. Mariner of California. This was recog- 
nized by said Folsom and recorded in Santa Fe 
county, New Mexico, August 25, 1887, book 
page of deeds pp. 602-304. Wm Keesee, O. L. 
Flaughton, Nazario Gonzales, Fernando Nolan, 
G. C. Booth and Matt Callhoun obtained their 
interests from the original owners of the Juana 
Lopez Grant. Wm. Keesee is well known in 
Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona as an old 
prospector. The above is simple statement of 
facts. 

Respectfully, 

Wm. Keesee. 


Wm. Keese, the well known pioneer of this 
camp claims the honor of being the first dis- 
covery of Anthricite coal in this vicinity. As an 
operator he formed the Keesee Coal Company 
which he informs us is on a solid footing and can 
be regarded as one of the most responsible com- 
panies in the territory of New Mexico. This 
Company mines for market. The best grades 
of both Anthricite and Bituminous coal. 

Mr. Keesee used to be in the blacksmith bus- 
iness at Deming, New Mexico. His shop was 
at Williams and Casey, old stand on Gold Ave- 
nue. General Wagon and blacksmith work, 
horse shoeing a specialty. All work guaran- 
teed. He was a prosperous farmer and owned 
several farms in Kentucky before coming west. 
Wm. Keesee sold out his mining interests to S. 
M. Folsom, who dispose dof his interests to the 
Santa Fe Railroad. 


Trinidad, Colo., Aug. 30, 1890. 


(Care of the Dead.) 

Wm. Keesee was in this city engaged in the 
sad task of removing the remains of his little 
daughter from the old West Side grave yard, to 
the Odd Fellows Cemetery at Trinidad. Mrs. 
Anna Keesee the wife to whom he had been mar- 
ried for twenty years, died on the 14th of Aug- 
ust and was buried at this city. Mrs. Keesee 
was injured on a train and for several years was 
a confirmed invalid. Prior to her death, other 
sisters and brothers had died and been buried 
at Trinidad. A daughter of Wm. Keesee had 
been burried over thirteen at Elmoro. Anoth- 
er daughter had been buried at Las Vegas, New 
Mexico ten years ago. The remains of all 
those loved ones, Mr. Wm. Keesee, has just 
gathered together and had them interred in his 
family lot. The daughter, Mary Vietta, a 
tenement of the tomb thirteen years, was found 
in an unusual condition of preservation. She 
was as natural as the day she was interred in 
the tomb. The very velvet on the casket not 
being even broken or soiled. The other daugh- 
ter burried at Las Vegas, New Mexico, had suf- 
fered the common fate of the dead. Little was 
left of the once loved form. But the beautiful 
hair, this had not been changed by the passing 
years. Mr. and Mrs. Keesee were a resident of 
Las Vegas, New Mexico for many years. Hav- 
ing come here before the railroad. And their 
many friends in this city and in their old Ken- 
tucky home will be pleased to learn of Mr. 
Keesee’ s pious care for the repose of his loved 
ones in the same resting place. 


WHEN WOMEN GET TO VOTE. 
Written December 14, 1917. 

In her simple gown 
She goes to town 
When she sells her butter. 

She always wears a frown, 

In her high heels 
She feels very proud; 

But sometimes 
They make her keel. 

With warts on her nose 

And corns on her toes 

She limps everywhere she goes. 

She cares not for rings 
And such things, 

She loves to dance and sing 
And sell her butter. 

And would go five miles further 
If it was n’t for her corns 
And such things, 

She likes to go to town 
And take in the shows. 

And see the bull fights 

And see the women get their rights. 

And hopes to see the day. 

When women get their rights 
If they will get wise 
They can get to vote 
And wear pants 
And tumble down the hill 
And laugh at Kaiser Bill. 


THE BEAUTIFUL ROSE 
Written August, 1917. 

Tis Just a few roses, 

Left blooming alone 
Tis just a few roses 
I’ll cherish most dear, 

But now in their beauty 
Soon will they perish — 

The beautiful roses I cherish. 


MY TRUE LOVE. 

By Lulu Evarts. 

I shall not forget the day, 

My true love was laid to rest 
With a rose on her breast 
It was in the month of June 
When roses were in bloom. 

Oh! the tears I couldn’t hide 
When I pressed my lips 
To her cold finger tips. 

Oh! the grief, the sorrows we must endure 
When we bid our loved ones farewell. 

Though we have hope for the spirit that’s gone 
to dwell 

In the Promised Land 
Where we are told that Angels 
In robes so white 
Will bid our loved ones 
A welcome to a home above, 

Where love, music and song 
Shall be a delight to their ear. 

Then what a glorious sight, 

If the story be true. 

That our loved ones in robes so white 
Will see the golden gates stand ajar 
And hear the glad tidings of the angels, 

To bid them a welcome to a mansion in the sky 
Where they’ll never say good-bye. 


Quotation from Robert Burns: 

“But pleasures are like popies spread 
You sieze the flower 
It’s bloom is shed. 

— Robert Burns. 

By Lulu Evarts 

Hoard up not your gold 
To canker and to rust 
For you cannot take it with you 
When you return to dust. 


ON A BALMY NIGHT IN MAY, 
Written October 1, 1917, 

By Lulu Evarts. 

On one balmy night in May, 

I shall not forget the day 
That I promised you sweetheart 
To be true for ever and a day. 

Oh, I love you, sweetheart 

And from you I hate to part 

For you are the sweetest girl of them all; 

Oh, my pretty dove, your other name is love. 

Say now my pretty dove, whose name is love, 

Don’t be so captious 

And fitty about my jesting 

For you are my own true love. 

Pretty dove, I love you, 

Tell it again, tell it again, 

There’s a beautiful girl, she’s got my heart 
And from her I hate to part. 


IN RAPTURE SUBLIME. 
Dedicated to little Volney. 

Sweet little Volney, has a sweet little face, 
And eyes of azure blue, 

An agile form full of grace, 

A heart ever fond and true, 

And a head of silken curls, 

That every one first exclaims : 

”Oh! What a pretty little girl!” 

Because the face wears a smile of bloom, 
The fact of the matter is: 

The little silken head is a boy 
And with his childish prattle 
Is his mother’s pride and joy. 


WRECKED ON BOARD THE BARK OF 
LOVE 


By George W. Gilbert, 

Son of J. B. Gilbert. 

Cast upon life’s stormy sea, 

Wrecked on board the bark of love. 

Are there no joys for me, 

Until I reach my home above? 

Alas, I’m sad and forlorn, 

From my loved ones cast away; 

Ah ! How good never to have been born 
To meet sad disappointment and sore dismay. 
’Ere life shall cross death’s dark glen. 

My loved ones to be more kind, 

And permit me to be with them, 

And in their joys and pleasures mingle. 

To rest my aching heart, 

To hear their merry laugh that tingles, 

All these sad hours we are apart. 

Go crazy, Preacher, and to pale Cynthia howl, 
And be answered by the screeching owl, 

You make God hideous with your fearful hells. 
For what it is and where it is, you ne’er pretend 
to tell. 

— BY J. B. Gilbert, 

First school teacher to Buffalo Bill (Col. 
Cody). 


By J. B. Gilbert 

If I be a doctor, I must break my rest and 
stand the cold, 

To obtain the shining gold, 

If I be a lawyer, I must lie and cheat, 

For an honest lawyer has no bread to eat. 

— First school teacher of Buffalo Bill. 


THE LITTLE CHINA DOLL. 
February 14, 1918, at Snyder, Okla. 

Once upon a time 
I had a little china doll, 

The prettiest ever seen 
Her eyes were soft and blue, 

Her hair was black and curly 
That clustered round 
Her forehead fair. 

She had a winsome face, 

Her frock was trimmed in lace, 

And I feel quite sure she would please 0 
Any king or queen 
If they could see my dolly 
When she hung upon the wall. 

One day my poor dolly 
Had a big fall, 

And don’t you know little girls and boys 
That was grief to me, I’ll tell you why 
Poor dolly fell and broke her head. 

Don’t you feel sorry for me, 

Poor dolly is dead. 

I am sitting and sighing, 

But Mamma is so good and kind 
She tries to kiss away my tears 
And tells me to forget my troubles. 

And run and play and some day 
She’ll buy me a doll 
With natural curly hair, 

One that has hair that I can comb and brush 
And whose eyes will shut and open. 

The sleeping beauty doll. 

But I am here to tell you 
The sleeping beauty doll 
Can never take the place 
Of my little china doll, 

Who had such a fall 

When she hung upon the wall. 

Her hair wasn’t like 
The sleeping beauty doll, 

Her eyes didn’t close or open, 

But the sleeping beauty doll 
Can never take the place 
Of my little china doll 
That hung upon the wall. 


LOVE’S SWEET DREAM. 

Written August 1, 1917, at Okla. City. 
By Lulu Evarts. 

On one balmy night in May 
When the stars shone bright, 

I promised you, my sweet heart, 

To be true for ever and a day. 

I shall not forget the night. 

The stars were shining bright, 

I kissed two rosy lips good-bye — 

I cannot forget the look he gave me. 

When he said, “I love you, sweetheart, 
And from you I hate to part. 

For you are the sweetest girl of all — 

Oh! My pretty dame I love you!” 

Come to my arms sweetheart. 

As I gaze into my campfire bright, 
Watching each ember as it slowly dies 
In the dim light that glowed. 

O’er me vigils seem to keep 
When I fall fast asleep. 

’Tis the image of a beautiful girl, 

She’s got my heart 

And none can give it back but you. 


THE BAREFOOTED BOY. 

Written October 1, 1917. 

By Lulu Evarts 

Many days I’ve squandered. 

Sitting on the river-banks 
In the years of long ago. 

Happy and contented I was 
When I rambled mid the wild woods, 

Where Robin Red Breast sang. 

At home sat Mother dear in her easy chair, 

With her specks on her eyes 

And who looked rather wise 

When she said 

Jim, you Kate and May, 

Are your fathers pride and joy. 

But now that I am a man 
My onlv pleasures are thinking of home and 
Mother. 

And seeking once more the loved spot. 

That brings memories of other days around me. 

When Mother often said 
With sister Kate and May, 

They hoped they’d never see the day 
When J im must go away. 

But here’s the scene 

That brings to my view 

Memories of childhood’s happy days. 

Paint this picture if you can: 

There’s the old homestead, 

There’s the little red school house 
Standing on the hill, 

Where the bell swung to and fro 
Mid the forest fresh and green; 

There’s the old mill stream 
Where we used to play — 

My sister Kate and May; 

There’s the. water-lilies and the vines 
That came to cheer us each and every day. 
Farewell to childhood’s happy days, 

There’s my mother and two sisters, 

There’s my father, old and gray, 

We parted in the long ago. 


THE NEW YEAR’S BELLS. 
Written August 5, 1917. 

Here’s a pair 

Whose hair has turned to silver gray, 

They are thinking of happy days gone by, 

When they were young, happy and spry. 

But contented are they now 

As they sit side by side 

Watching the silver moon 

As it creeps o’er the hill tops far away. 

Then with claspt hands, 

In silent prayer, 

They listen to the New Year’s bells. 

For many a story will it tell 
As the old year goes out 
And the New comes in. 

Then let the old and young 
Bow their heads in prayer, 

For soon the Bells may toll 

And the hours draw nigh 

When some dear father or mother 

Must soon say good-bye to the old arm chair. 


VI ETTA DREAM 
— Or, The Patter of Little Feet. 
Written December 15, 1917. 

What is it that comes near 

My dreaming ear 

’Tis little voices kind and sweet, 

’Tis the patter of little feet, 

As they softly creep 
And surround me 
With kisses everywhere, 

In my fortress 
They hold me fast. 

And when I grab them by their frocks 
Away they run tee-hee, tee-hee, 

’Tis the children’s hour. 

They like to play hide and seek. 

And blind man’s buff, 

But soon to bed they tumble, 

Two little curly heads 
And soon are fast asleep, 

But wide awake 
At the dawn of day 
They like to run and play. 


THE MOTHER’S PRAYER. 
Written October 28, 1917. 

By Lulu Evarts 

Mother, dear, you often said 
When a child, I kneeled in prayer, 

You hoped you’d never see the day 
Your darling boy to war must go away. 

The pleading, if to war you must go 
Be a marquis soldier boy 
Fight for your country and honor too 
But remember you are your mother’s joy. 

If upon the battle-field 
My dear boy, you should be slain 
Remember I’ll seek you in vain 
But don’t forget your mother’s prayer. 

Mother dear, I hope some day 
If by fate I fall in the fray 
Don’t forget me mother 
For I was your pride and joy. 

To war I’ll go and be a soldier brave 
And should I fill the warrior’s grave 
Don’t forget me mother 
For I am still your soldier boy. 


“WHEN THE WAR IS OVER.” 

By Lulu Evarts. 

Set to Music by Raymond Browne, New York City. 


There's many hearts will beat with joy — when 
war is o’er; 

To welcome back a soldier boy — when the war is 
o’er; 

Beneath the Stars and Stripes, so true ; 

In gallant uniform of blue; 

Come marching back to me and you — when the 
war is o’re. 


CHORUS 

When the war is o’er — when the war is o’er; 

And our victories are won ; 

We will cheer our boys; yes, we’ll cheer our boys, 

For the splendid work they’ve done 

Beneath our colors — the Red, White and Blue ; 
when the war is o’er. 

Old Glory it will proudly wave — when the war 
is o’er; 

Above the homes of our own brave — when the 
war is o’er; 

And all the boys that made us free; 

Yes, made our land of liberty; 

Will all come back to you and me — when the 
war is o’er. 














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